


The Prologue

by DarylsBabyGirl



Series: Marriage and Tumors [3]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Attempts at being medically accurate, Bad News, Hugging, M/M, Morgan is a doctor, Pre-Relationship, Seizures, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 05:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14182308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarylsBabyGirl/pseuds/DarylsBabyGirl
Summary: Paul and Daryl were supposed to have movie night, but Paul isn't feeling good... and wakes up in the hospital.





	The Prologue

Paul was dead tired. He wanted to just crash on Daryl's couch and play some games with him, or maybe watch a movie. Friday nights were his favorite part of the week. He looked forward to it the most. As he stepped out of the coffee shop, he reached into his pocket for the bottle of Excedrin he'd taken to carrying around. He swallowed the pill with what was left of his water as his coworker locked up. They said good bye and Paul started on his way home. It was a fairly warm night, so he was glad he didn't wear his jacket. He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and sighed softly. 

Daryl was a constant presence on his mind. The man's eyes were burned into Paul's brain and he dreamed of the mechanic's hands on his body. If Kyle wasn't still around, Paul would've made a move by now. Paul sighed. Not that Daryl would've agreed anyways. Daryl was way out of Paul's league. The mechanic was handsome, smart, funny in a sassy, sarcastic kind of way. He was kind and his voice could get Paul hard if the man were reading a damn car manual.

Just Paul's type. 

And he was off limits. 

Paul sighed again and pulled out his keys as he approached the apartment building. He unlocked the door and stepped inside. His vision blurred for a moment and he had to reach out to put a hand on the wall to keep himself from tumbling. He closed his eyes at the pounding pain in the back of his head with a groan. It receded after a moment, so he opened his eyes again. His vision was normal, so he shook his head a bit and started up the stairs to get to the third floor. 

He just needed a good night's sleep is all. Daryl should be getting off soon, so he headed right for the man's door. He didn't want to be in his cold, empty apartment right now. He didn't feel good. He needed the comfort of Daryl's warm apartment, surrounded by the mechanic's scent and voice. His vision blurred again half way down the hall. He closed his eyes, leaning on the wall. The pain grew worse as he slowly made his way to Daryl's door, keeping a hand on the wall. He whined softly and his voice blacked out. He didn't feel his body hit the floor. 

 

Daryl groaned tiredly as he climbed the stairs. He really wished the damn apartment complex would fix the elevator. After spending eight plus hours on his feet and under hoods or bellies of cars, he had no energy to climb three flights of stairs. He just wanted a shower, food and Paul's company. He'd ended things with Kyle this morning and tonight... tonight he would make his move on Paul. He was going to kiss those pretty pink lips, sink his fingers into that long brown hair and whisper how much he loved him. 

His heart raced as he climbed the last flight of stairs. He'd bought new cologne just for this night. He was going to order Paul's favorite take out place and he had some good wine chilling in the freezer. He'd gotten advice from his co worker, Aaron, about wine. So, he'd tried a few himself over the last few days until he found one suitable for tonight. He couldn't wait to see Paul's face when he saw what all Daryl had planned. 

As he rounded the corner, he looked down at his keys to make sure he had the right one. When he looked back up, he dropped his keys to the floor. “PAUL!” He ran forward, nearly sliding on his knees as he reached Paul's still body. He carefully lifted the man into his arms, eyes widening at the sight of foam drying in the man's beard and on his lips. “Fuck... fuck fuck fuck...” His mind raced, trying to think of what to do. He reached into his back pocket to grab his phone, nearly dropping it in his haste to unlock it and dial 911.

 

When Paul finally came around again, it had been several hours. He groaned in pain and shifted, eyes opening blearily. It was fairly dark in the room. Where was he? He blinked several times and looked around. He could hear some voices and movement outside the glass door. He looked around more, spotting a sink and a counter. He looked to the other side and saw Daryl sitting in a chair, bent over and his head resting on the bed next to Paul's hand, which he was holding. Paul's heart skipped a beat, setting off an alarm. 

A nurse came running in, making Paul look up. “Oh, you're awake!” She smiled and turned the light up just a little bit more so she could see. “You've been out for hours, we were beginning to worry you wouldn't wake up. How are you feeling?” 

Paul looked back down at Daryl. “Uh... a bit... fuzzy.” He whispered. “Where am I?”

“You're at Alexandria Hospital in the Emergency Room. Your friend there called the ambulance after he found you passed out in the hallway from a seizure.”

Paul looked up at her in alarm. “Seizure?”

She nodded, grabbing a clip board from the counter and sitting in a rolling chair. “Now that you're awake, I need to ask you a few questions.”

The barista swallowed thickly, but nodded. “Okay.”

“Have you ever had a seizure before?”

Paul shook his head. “No, not to my recollection.” He squeezed Daryl's hand a bit, needing the comfort. 

“Do you take any medications or prescriptions?”

“Uh... I've recently started taking Excedrin for migraines.”

She looked up at him. “How often do you get migraines?”

He shrugged and looked down at where he and Daryl were holding hands. “Used to get them rarely, but in the last couple months it's been... I don't know... once every few days.” She nodded, writing something down. She asked him a few more questions about smoking and drinking, if he exercised and how often as well as his family history. “I... I don't know my family history. I'm an orphan.”

She looked up at him slowly. “... Okay.” She sighed softly and stood up, clipping the pen to the clip board. “I think I have everything. Someone will be in shortly to get your insurance information.” She turned and left, closing the curtain to give him privacy. 

Daryl stirred from the sound of the curtain rings on the metal rod. He sat up some, using his free hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “Paul..? Ya okay?”

Paul smiled a bit. “Yeah...” He looked back down at where their hands were still grasped together. Daryl blushed and quickly released Paul's hand. He missed the warmth of the mechanic's touch as soon as it was gone. He shoved the blanket off and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, but got dizzy and had to sit there a minute. 

“Paul..? What're you doin?” Daryl stood up and came around to the other side of the stretcher. 

“I can't afford a hospital stay.” Once the dizziness settled, Paul stood up and went to the counter to get his clothes. 

“Paul, ya had a seizure. At least wait ta see what the doctor says before ya leave.” He put a hand on Paul's shoulder, steadying him when his body swayed. “Fer me... please...”

Paul looked up at the man. Daryl had never said please for anything that wasn't a beer or water. He stared into the man's eyes and sighed. “Alright.” He let Daryl lead him back to the stretcher. He laid back down, smiling tiredly when Daryl covered him back up. Daryl sat back down and pulled out his phone. He started texting, so Paul looked around the room, listening to the sounds of nurses moving about, phones ringing and nurse lights going off. After several seconds, there was a knock on the glass door and a doctor stepped in. 

“Good evening, I'm Dr. Morgan Jones.” He stepped up to Paul's bed side and shook his hand. “Paul Rovia, I'm assuming?”

Paul nodded and glanced at Daryl, who put his phone away. “Yes. So... any idea what happened to me?”

Dr. Jones pulled up a rolling stool from the corner of the room and sat down. “Well, I'd like to get an MRI. Your blood work came back fairly normal except from a slightly high white blood cell count, which means you have some kind of infection or maybe a virus, couple that with a seizure and that tells us you have something going on in your brain.”

Paul swallowed thickly.”I... I don't have insurance... and I can't afford an expensive hospital bill.”

“I highly suggest you get the scan, Mr. Rovia. Neural viruses can be deadly. One high fever can send you into a stroke or give severe brain damage.”

Paul sighed and rubbed his face. “Can't you just... give me antibiotics and hope for the best?”

“Paul, get the scan.” Daryl's voice was firm and held no room for argument, but Paul looked at him, an eyebrow raised and lips in a thin line. 

“What..?” Paul glared at Daryl a bit, not appreciating the tone the man took with him. 

Daryl glared back. “Get the scan, I'll pay for it.” 

“Daryl, I can't ask you to-”

“Ya ain't askin me! 'm offerin... so, please...” Daryl lowered his voice, looking down at the floor.

Paul stared at him. Daryl was merely concerned about him and it was showing as anger. He sighed after a moment when Daryl started calming down. “... Fine. I'll get the scan.”

The doctor nodded and stood up. “I'll go put the order in.” He turned and left, leaving Daryl and Paul alone. 

“... Never raise your voice at me like that again. I did not appreciate that.” Paul whispered, arms crossed over his chest. 

Daryl swallowed thickly, rubbing his fingers together and picking at his finger nails. “'m sorry... I just... 'm scared, Paul... 'n I ain't even the one sittin in that stretcher. Yer my best friend.”

Paul glanced over at the mechanic. “Daryl...” He didn't want to admit that Daryl's firm voice had been somewhat of a turn on for him. He reached over and took Daryl's hands in his. “Thank you. No one's ever done something like this for me.” He smiled a bit. “You're an angel.”

Daryl blushed and smiled back. “So are you.” His phone dinged so he released Paul's hand to fish it out of his pocket. 

Paul hid his hurt by fiddling with the ID band on his wrist. It didn't take long for the radiology tech to come get Paul for the scan while Daryl stayed in the room. His heart raced as he laid back on the cold metal of the machine table. The tech told him to lie still and take death breaths. He closed his eyes as the machine whirred and clicked as it scanned his brain. It only took a couple minutes and he was laying back down on the stretcher being wheeled back to his room. Daryl wasn't in the room when Paul was wheeled in and left alone. He sighed, hoping the mechanic just went to the bathroom. When a few minutes passed, he started getting nervous, but then Daryl walked in. 

The mechanic smiled at him, helping him to relax. “Sorry, had ta make some calls.”

“Who have you been texting all night?” Paul asked as Daryl leaned against the sink in the corner of the room. 

“My accountant... makin sure 'm gonna have enough ta get ya taken care of as well as pay fer the house 'm wantin ta buy.”

Paul's heart dropped. “... You're buying a house?” He was moving out of the apartment, the only thing that connected them.

Daryl looked down. “Yeah... Kyle keeps comin by... leavin notes 'n shit.”

“You broke up with him?” Why hadn't Daryl told him? He thought they shared everything.

“Yeah, last week. Didn't get a chance ta tell ya... what with all the overtime ya been doin.” Daryl shrugged, but Paul could tell that wasn't the only reason he hadn't said anything. 

What was Daryl hiding from him?

Before Paul could ask him, the door opened and the doctor came back in. “That was quick.” Paul was quite surprised. Usually results for tests took almost an hour in the Emergency Room.

Dr. Jones smiled. “It's a slow night, so everyone's bored and eager to work.” He walked up to the wall across from the bed and turned on the back light. He took a couple scans out of the manila folder he was holding and stuck them to the light. “This is a scan of the left side of your brain. You see this dark area here?” He used a pen to indicate the area he was talking about. 

“... Yeah.” Paul swallowed thickly. “What is that?”

“It's a tumor. Judging by the size and location... I'd say a Glioma. Until we get a biopsy, we won't know what kind of Glioma and what treatment to use.” The doctor turned to Paul to assess his reaction. 

Daryl had moved closer to Paul, reaching down to hold his hand. “So, what d'we do now?”

Dr. Jones shut the light off and took the scans back. “Well... I'd like to admit you, start you on some medication and we'll set a date for the biopsy, the sooner the better.”

Paul nodded mutely, looking down at the blanket covering his lap. He didn't notice the doctor had left until Daryl sat down on the edge of the stretcher carefully. A tear dropped down on their joined hands. 

“Hey... we'll get it taken care of.” Daryl whispered, reaching his free hand up to wipe the tears away. 

“Daryl... without insurance, this is gonna cost a fortune. What if you can't buy your house because of this? I can't do that to you. I can't let you do that for me.” He let Daryl pull him into a hug, resting his head on the mechanic's shoulder.

Daryl sighed and rocked Paul slowly, petting his hair. “We'll figure somethin out.”


End file.
